


To the Grave

by LadySilver



Category: Highlander: The Series, Machine of Death - ed. Bennardo/Malki/North
Genre: Crossovers by LS, Gen, Machine of Death AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/pseuds/LadySilver
Summary: What happens when an Immortal uses the Machine of Death?





	To the Grave

**Author's Note:**

> From the [Machine of Death](http://machineofdeath.net) website:
> 
>  
> 
> _The machine had been invented a few years ago: a machine that could tell, from just a sample of your blood, how you were going to die. It didn’t give you the date and it didn’t give you specifics. It just spat out a sliver of paper upon which were printed, in careful block letters, the words DROWNED or CANCER or OLD AGE or CHOKED ON A HANDFUL OF POPCORN. It let people know how they were going to die._
> 
>  
> 
> _The problem with the machine is that nobody really knew how it worked, which wouldn’t actually have been that much of a problem if the machine worked as well as we wished it would. But the machine was frustratingly vague in its predictions: dark, and seemingly delighting in the ambiguities of language. OLD AGE, it had already turned out, could mean either dying of natural causes, or shot by a bedridden man in a botched home invasion. The machine captured that old-world sense of irony in death — you can know how it’s going to happen, but you’ll still be surprised when it does._

All it took to break a Machine was a drop of Immortal blood.

CRASH

People figured out quickly enough that what the Machine predicted always came true--for certain values of ironic interpretation. This had led to a great deal of speculation in both Immortal and Watcher circles about what it would say to someone who already had a pre-ordained death.

EVISCERATION

(No surprise there.)

It also led to whispers about whether the results could predict the outcome of the Game. In even more hushed voices, some suggested that the Machine could potentially verify the very existence of the Game.

Immortals had been fighting and beheading each other in its name for as long as the Watchers had existed, yet no one seemed to know if it was _necessary_. Why bother to form friendships or to have romantic liaisons with someone one was going to be required to kill? Why take on students?

BETRAYAL

(By whom? Friend? Lover? Student?)

SLOWLY AND PAINFULLY

(Yowch!)

What no one considered is what "predict death" might mean when applied to an Immortal. Most of the world didn't know of their ilk, so wouldn't have had any reason to consider the possibility. Those who did worked under the assumption that the Machine would only predict the final death--the one that mattered.

Which is why it had taken so long for anyone to test it.

Joe leafed through slips of paper he'd managed to rescue from the floor before the maintenance crew trampled them in their rush to shut down the Machine, and he had to fight to hold on to his composure in the face of what had happened. He was used to holding hundreds or thousands of years of history in his hands. But this wasn't comparable. This was dozens, perhaps hundreds of years, of _future_.

FIRE

(House? Gun? Forest?)

It was vague future, better than a fortune telling machine only because it would come true--though it might take hindsight to match the prediction to its event. Joe couldn't believe his luck in being in this spot at this time, the swiftness with which he'd been able to act to preserve this bit of the future, and his awareness that he'd never get to see how it all played out. Good luck, bad luck: Sometimes there wasn't much difference.

FIRE

(Again?)

The Immortal had faded into the crowd as quickly as possible--no doubt to go destroy the security footage for the Machine before anyone saw who had supplied the blood. He wouldn't be back for the read-outs; none of them indicated more than temporary inconveniences to him.

FIRE

(Was this over minutes, years, or centuries? Consecutive events, or not?)

Joe paused before flipping to the next page, making an internal bet on whether it would also read FIRE.

ROULETTE

He hung his head. This was why he didn't gamble. The House would always win, and the Machine was never wrong. 

The rest of the slips were of interest only to Joe, and potentially generations of future Watchers. He'd have to make sure he left them in trusted hands when his own slip came true.

WRONG TURN

One life, marked in sign-posts of deaths. And, oh, what a life. The research possibilities were staggering.

The last slip he read, read again, then slid into his pocket with a furtive glance at the assembled crowd of onlookers around the Machine's kiosk. This one, he didn't think he'd share. He had his own thoughts on the Game, on its purpose and value. He had his own thoughts on the Watchers and their purpose and value.

And this could upend all that.

Patting his pocket, he turned and lumbered away before it occurred to any of the newly arriving security guards to come around and talk to him, because now he knew, and telling would be interfering.

There was only one slip that mattered, and now Joe had it: 

PEACEFULLY, IN BED

**Author's Note:**

> I went on vacation and read a lot of random books. _Machine of Death_ was one that really impressed me and left me filled with scenario ideas, which I spent the plane ride back committing to screen. Feel free to share your own with me.
> 
> As always: questions, comments, concrit, and squee are welcomed on this story.


End file.
